The Drumbeat
by Shadowblade217
Summary: No one knows how Moriarty could have survived the confrontation on the hospital roof. It should be impossible for anyone to survive that. But, as it turns out, James Moriarty is more than he appears to be. And Sherlock wasn't his only nemesis. One-shot, might continue to multi-chapter if enough people are interested.


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Sherlock**_** or **_**Doctor Who**_**.**

_**The Drumbeat**_

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_St. Bartholomew's Hospital_

_London, England_

The sounds of bedlam continued below. Sirens, screaming, and shouted orders. Chaos reigned.

As stunned onlookers watched, a body was wheeled through the hospital doors on a gurney. The man's lifeless form was battered and bloody; what one would expect from someone who had just plummeted from the roof of a building to his death.

Sherlock Holmes, perhaps the greatest mind of his generation, had fallen.

.

Despite the panic below, the roof of the hospital was, for now, quiet. The only object there was a human body, in a strange contrast to the scene downstairs. While Sherlock's body was surrounded by people, this one was alone and abandoned, but both corpses were silent and peaceful, despite their injuries. A pool of blood had begun to spread across the concrete, flowing from a bullet hole in the back of the skull.

This man had been known as James Moriarty; he had been, quite possibly, the most dangerous man in the world for a time, before he had committed suicide in order to force Sherlock, his nemesis, to do the same.

To anyone else, it would seem as if Moriarty had lost, sacrificing himself in an attempt to win the great game he and Sherlock had played.

This, however, was not the case.

A saying that Moriarty had taken to heart, some time ago, was one that he had chosen to utilize in preparing for his final confrontation with Sherlock. The saying was, "The rules of engagement change completely when an attacker has chosen not to survive the fight," and in this case, it had been eerily accurate. This fight had changed completely the moment Moriarty had decided that he cared about beating Sherlock more than he cared about his own survival.

But, interestingly enough, just as Sherlock had one final ace up his sleeve – although no one had known about that – Moriarty had possessed a trick of his own. A final solution.

After all, if there was a way of cheating death, then a being who was biologically programmed to survive all but the most extreme damage was likely to find it.

As Moriarty lay there, his body abandoned and, for the moment, forgotten… something began to change.

A faint glow appeared at his fingertips, slowly spreading inward along his fingers and across his palms. The soft golden light began to flow up his arms, starting to brighten. More light began to appear, spreading throughout his body, down his legs, through his torso and around his head. His hair stirred, as if a sudden breeze had come to the rooftop.

The glow continued to spread, until every inch of Moriarty's body was emitting golden light. His eyes remained closed in death, but the faintest flicker of movement stirred beneath their lids.

The light began to pulse; slowly at first, but steadily becoming faster, until it mimicked the beat of a human heart.

Moriarty's fingers twitched.

The pulses came faster and faster, a breeze continuing to blow around Moriarty's body. The wind grew louder.

There was a moment of calm. The air was still and quiet.

And then Moriarty's body heaved violently upwards, his back arching, as the golden light erupted from every pore on his body, spilling outwards into the air around him. His body continued to jerk and spasm, every motion churning the swirling light.

As the light continued to pour forth from his body, Moriarty's injuries began to heal. The bullet hole in his head closed over, the bone of his skull melding together. New flesh grew, replacing what had been lost.

Moriarty's eyes snapped open, filled with light. His mouth opened, more light pouring from it, and he screamed. The sound echoed across the empty rooftop.

The process had done its job. His body was healed.

The change would come next. A new face, a new personality. Starting fresh.

But… no. He didn't want to change; he liked this appearance, this body.

So he forced all of his energy into something new. Something different. He concentrated the golden light, the power, into his body, feeling it coursing through his veins like fire, but held back the change. He focused all of the power into his hands, which he held up above him.

One thought was uppermost in his mind.

_I don't want to go._

And then he expelled all of that excess energy upwards, into the air, with a final scream of triumph.

For a moment, a swirling beam of golden light shot upwards from the roof of the hospital. It hung in the sky for a few seconds, and then dissipated harmlessly, scattered to the wind like smoke.

Moriarty lay motionless, flat on his back on the rooftop. He inhaled deeply, a slow breath, and opened his eyes, glancing around. He raised a hand, looking at it curiously, and then ran it over his head and face, feeling his jawline, running fingers through his hair.

His lips curved in a triumphant smile, and he laughed.

He honestly hadn't known whether that would work; he could survive a lot of things, but a bullet through the head was a bit more difficult to regenerate from. Fortunately, as it turned out, he'd been right; it had worked. He had cheated death.

Moriarty's next thought, after the euphoria faded, was; _Where is he?_ He glanced around the rooftop, but there was no sign of Sherlock anywhere.

That was when he heard the sound of sirens and yelling from below.

Following a hunch, Moriarty walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down. The chaos below was unmistakable.

_He actually did it,_ Moriarty thought. He grinned. _The idiot._ Sherlock had heroically sacrificed himself – just as Moriarty had known he would – while Moriarty himself had used the one ability his enemy did not possess to survive.

"I win," Moriarty murmured under his breath. He was surprised to find the words, and the satisfaction that came with them, somewhat hollow. But, when he thought about it, it wasn't all that surprising. Sherlock Holmes had been the only person who had ever even come close to matching him.

Well, actually, that wasn't _technically_ true. There was one other person, out there somewhere, who had been able to match him. One man, who had foiled his plans time and time again, back when he'd been known by another name. A man who had been more of a nuisance to him than even Sherlock.

A man known as the Doctor.

Moriarty's eyes narrowed as he looked out over London. With Sherlock gone, this place didn't really interest him any more. His ultimate goal remained the same; to find a way off this planet, and regain the power he'd once held.

More than anything, he wanted to find the Doctor, and make him pay for everything he'd done to him.

Well… he could afford to wait for his enemy to come to him. 21st-century Earth, after all, was the best place to find the Doctor.

Grinning, James Moriarty turned and started back towards the stairwell leading down to the hospital's back exit. Leaving the building should be easy; after all, according to the world, Moriarty didn't exist.

As he approached the stairwell door, however, Moriarty stopped. He reached up and touched his forehead for a few seconds, blinking repeatedly and rubbing at his temples.

There it was again, as always; the ceaseless, four-part beat; _Dun-dun, dun-dun. Dun-dun, dun-dun._

The sound that had plagued him his entire life. The sound of drums.

Moriarty laughed.

"You think I'm dead, Doctor," he said to himself. "And when I see you again, I'll prove just how wrong you are."

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**AN: Hello, everyone! Hope you all enjoyed this one-shot; I've always been intrigued by the parallels between **_**Sherlock**_** and **_**Doctor Who**_**, with regards to the clashes between the protagonist (Sherlock and the Doctor) and their chief nemesis (Moriarty and the Master). In particular, Moriarty and the newest incarnation of the Master (the one played by John Simm) often seem like very similar characters to me, so I started wondering; what might happen if they were one and the same? I planned this as a self-contained one-shot, but if enough people are interested in seeing more of this, I might continue it and make it a multi-chapter story. Let me know if you'd like to see more!**


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